


Save You, Save Me

by Little_Cello



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Green Cortina, Hurt/Comfort, Rare Pairings, Romance, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/pseuds/Little_Cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's angstyness nearly gets him killed. Dora is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save You, Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> Back in June, I needed to get aggressions and stuff off my chest, so I wrote this. Was originally intended to be some simple Whump Without Plot, but turned into Sam/Dora along the way. (Yes, I always end up whumping Sam when I'm stressed. Ssshhhh.) Green Cortina for the murder attempt.

Whisky.

 

Too much whisky.

 

Sam knew he shouldn't have drunk this much, it always made him so drowsy. But then again, that had been the point, hadn't it? Drink enough to sleep a dreamless sleep. No little girls with clowns, no DCI telling him he wasn't fit for the job, no Maya turning her back on him, no Dora staring up at him from broken, sightless eyes. Just darkness, blessed darkness.

 

But sleep hadn't come easily, and so Sam was still half-awake when his door with its forever-broken lock was opened slowly, and a dark shape slid into the room. Sam saw the shape, noted that it was too bulky to be Dora, and idly wondered whether it was Gene. But then, Gene didn't slip inside like a cat. Gene came 'round his house and stamped on his door, usually. And Gene didn't usually remain this quiet. Unless maybe he had something different in mind?

 

Sam's alcohol-addled brain still was trying to come up with reasons for Gene being so silent when the shadow crept up to him, grabbing something square-shaped from the armchair on its way. That was odd as well. What would they need that for? Sam watched the shadow loom over him, his eyes half-lidded.

 

“Well, DI Tyler, who thought it would be this easy...?”

 

What would? If the shadow was talking about getting sleep, then Sam would tell him that this definitely was not easy. It also wasn't easy earning Dora's trust, or understanding her sudden mood swings. That was another reason why he had chosen to drink the whisky tonight – they had had an argument, and Dora had disappeared. Sam had wanted to go look for her, but work wouldn't permit it, and no-one on the team knew that the two of them were meeting regularly, and Sam wanted to keep it that way for a while longer. Dora wasn't pleased over that. _Why d'you need to keep this a bloody secret? Ashamed of me, are yeh?!_ , she'd yelled at him. That was the last he had seen of her.

 

He was supposed to protect her, but she wouldn't let him.

 

“She won't let me,” Sam told the shadow.

 

The shadow gave no answer, merely took another step towards Sam, and raised the square-shaped object. And brought it down, slowly, on Sam's face.

 

_Huh._

 

Now that, that really was odd. The object was soft, moulding itself to the shape of his face. _It's a pillow_ , Sam thought. _There's a pillow on my face. I can't breathe._

 

He couldn't breathe.

 

A pillow.

 

A shadow.

 

He couldn't breathe.

 

_He couldn't breathe!_

 

Suddenly, Sam's mind snapped to attention, his body giving a jerk along with it. In response, the pillow was pressed down harder on him, leaving absolutely no air for him to breathe. He was being smothered. He fought – or tried to, but the shadows was strong. Sam thrashed harder, his back arching, because he needed to get that pillow of him, needed air, needed to breathe –

 

And still the pillow was being pressed down, harder and harder, and Sam cursed the whisky, cursed himself for being drunk, cursed himself for driving off Dora, lashed out only to find himself trapped beneath a suffocating weight. So many thoughts tumbled through his reeling mind, he could barely hold onto them. If he died here, would he wake up in 2006 again? But who would look after Dora then?

 

“Oi!”

 

Oh, that was right... she could look after herself...

 

“I said, OI, TOSSER!!”

 

… she didn't need him...

 

“EAT THIS!!”

 

There was a distant _crash_.

 

And then the pillow was gone.

 

Sam reared up, coughing madly and doubling over. A moment later, slender hands were all over him, trying to get him to sit up straight, cradling his face, and then they were gone again and Dora yelled “STAY DOWN!”, and there was a _thump_ and another _crash_. Sam, still coughing, forced his eyes open, but he didn't see much else than swirling colours and flashing lights. Someone moved about, and then Dora was by his side again.

 

“You smell like a distillery. Don't tell me you got so sloshed you didn't notice that bloke breaking into your flat, you bloody twonk.”

 

Sam gave one last cough, blinked, and then managed to focus on her. Despite her harsh words, she looked worried, shaken. If his heart hadn't been racing already, it definitely would have picked up pace when he looked into her eyes.

 

“H-how did you...”

 

“Clonked 'im over the 'ead with a bottle. Probably didn't expect me to turn up.” She didn't smile. “Jesus, Sam. Half the world's out ter kill yeh, from the looks of it.”

 

Sam gave a raspy, breathless laugh. “Not very successful, are they.”

 

Dora slapped him.

 

“You utter – _you nearly died!_ ”

 

If the attack hadn't sobered him up, Dora definitely had done the trick now. Holding his burning cheek, Sam turned his head back to look at her.

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“'Sorry' doesn't cut it, mate!” She snorted and got up from the bed, turning her back on him. “Why do I even bother with you?! You either sulk away, or say the maddest things, or...” She threw her hands up, having run out of words.

 

“... I'm sorry.”

 

Dora snorted in response, but when she made to leave, Sam finally moved off the bed to catch up to her – and nearly stumbled over the body of his attacker, lying on the floor. That drew another snort from Dora, the near-chuckle-kind.

 

“Are you _really_ a copper?”

 

Sam's heart leapt. No matter what sort of argument they'd had, whenever Dora started to question his occupation, he knew that she was starting to forgive him already, for which he was eternally grateful. Stepping over the motionless body, he took her hand.

 

“Thanks, Dora. You saved my skin there.”

 

“I bloody well did.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “I think you owe me now.”

 

The corners of Sam's lips twitched. “I guess I do.”

 

Dora leaned in, standing on tiptoes, until their noses nearly touched. “You _do._ ”

 

Sam couldn't help it, he smiled. “Alright. I do.”

 

Satisfied, Dora took a step back, raising her chin. “Right then. I guess you better call your copper friends so that they get rid of Mr Pillow-Biter 'ere.”

 

However, Sam didn't do that. Instead, he closed the distance between them again, and reached out for Dora's hands again, gently prying her fingers apart to interlace them with his. “Dora, I'm sorry. About today. I'm not... I could never be ashamed of you.” He shook his head. “Please don't run off like that again.”

 

She looked at him for a long time, searching his eyes. Finally, she tilted her head slightly. “Only if you stop attracting murdering bastards. I can't always be there to look after yer sorry arse.”

 

Sam looked down, a wistful smile on his face. _I can't promise that_.

 

“I promise.”

 

Dora looked at him for a heartbeat longer, then nodded.

 

“I can tell you're lyin', you div.”

 

“I promise if you let me look after you.”

 

“You twonk, you can't even look after yourself.”

 

“I will, soon as you let me look after you.”

 

She gave him a gentle shove. “Give over.” Nevertheless, when Sam leaned in to kiss her, Dora didn't resist, and met him half way.


End file.
